


Colour concentration

by kezikaye05



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dancer! Bokuto, M/M, akaashi's kinda like an old man, bokuto's a street dancer, he'd probably yell at kids who play music out loud lol, inspired by the colourful owl costume bokuto wore in the stageplay that one time, there's no plot to this..kinda??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kezikaye05/pseuds/kezikaye05
Summary: Akaashi hates colour, he finds it despicable, ugly. But when he chances upon a street dancer, he finds not all colour is ugly.





	Colour concentration

Akaashi carries a black bag in one hand and a grey tumbler in the other. He seems to blend in with the concrete walls that he passes by; grey, plain. He wears a grey button-down shirt and matches with an equally plain-looking pair of jeans, for he finds the world around him too colourful. He despises it. 

Akaashi had very nice eyes, they were lively and curious, a beautiful blue that rivalled the ocean. Now they are still blue, but they are dull and lifeless. They are void of any sparkle or glimmer, the sunlight refuses to reflect against them. 

He winces when a bright red car flashes by him. A small girl looks questioningly at him, Akaashi chases her away with nothing more than a desultory glance. 

Akaashi believes the world is too bright, too colourful, too loud. Too ugly. Colours hurt his eyes, loud sounds make his head throb. He wishes everything was like the silent black and white movies from the 80s. Colour is ugly, ergo the world. 

Akaashi strolls past the main road to a quieter side one, he relishes in the relative silence. There’s a faint thumping noise in the distance, like that blasted EDM music Akaashi wouldn’t give a second of his time. Akaashi prays that he won’t pass by the source of the noise pollution. 

He does, in fact, as fate would have it. 

The smack of vibrant colour and deafening hip-hop music is, to put it lightly, enough to throw Akaashi 200 meters off the edge. 

It's a man, in his early 20s, Akaashi assumes, being everything Akaashi is not and would never be. The man is dancing in the street, a group of girls giggle and whisper as they pass by him. Attractive, Akaashi can only assume from his spot many meters away. His hair is white with dark streaks of black, it bounces as he jumps and sways with vigorous movements. 

His clothes look like he went swimming in a rainbow, as Akaashi described it. A baggy yellow shirt is worn over an inner green one, the long green sleeves reaching his wrists. A blue headband holds his hair back and his pants could only be from the 90s, bright orange and big. The pants fold and layer at his sneakers, white with colourful streaks of purple and pink.  _ He certainly stands out,  _ Akaashi thinks, and for the first time, he can’t decide whether for good or bad. 

The man is dancing to a loud and frankly obnoxious 90s dance song, he does twists and turns and flips so advanced all Akaashi could see was a blur of mixed colours. He watches the man for however long he was dancing. 20? Maybe 40 minutes? It seemed like less. A bright smile stayed constant throughout the many minutes Akaashi was there, and when he finished with a dramatic flourish, people cheered and clapped with the utmost enthusiasm. 

The man locks eyes with Akaashi as his gaze flutters across the crowd, panting, heaving. His golden-brown eyes hungry, searching. 

Akaashi finds himself clapping too. 

He gets home late that night, usually an unforgivable offence in his book, but he let it slide for the talented dancer he can’t seem to shake off. The man had the most intense and alive eyes Akaashi had ever seen. They were familiar, they were fascinating. 

Akaashi starts taking the same route home, in hopes of catching the man dancing again. To his luck, the man is there the next day, and the next, and the next. Akaashi watches every day, every day a new routine. He stays until the sun dips over the horizon and the orange hues shine off the windows. And for once, he doesn’t mind. 

The man wears different ensembles every day, to match the song he dances to. Sometimes he’s in modern clothes and denim jackets, sometimes in sweats and hoodies. But they are always colourful, the music is always loud, the man is always smiling. 

They meet eyes after every performance, each time getting longer until it takes a physical nudge or verbal call from the crowd for them to tear away. Akaashi enjoys his gaze, he doesn’t seem to squirm or fidget no matter the intensity. Maybe it's because his eyes have been dead for so long he forgot what it was like to see alive ones. To look straight into the lenses of life. 

One day the man walks up to him after his performance, after the crowd dissipated. They look at each other for what could only be the longest time he’s ever held a gaze. The man searches, Akaashi allows. Searching, always searching, Akaashi found it amazing. 

“I’ve seen you very often, you always stay until the end,” the man says bashfully, scuffing the ground with his feet. 

He’s shy now, sheepish.  _ How endearing _ , Akaashi thinks. 

“You’re good. I like your dances,” Akaashi replies. The man looks at him, surprised. Then a smile spreads across his face and a chuckle. Akaashi felt the ends of his lips tingle from the energy. 

“Thanks! One day, I’m going to be the best!” The man radiates such joy, passion, emotions, Akaashi’s almost terrified. Akaashi is his polar opposite, yet he can’t tear away from the man. 

“I do hope so.” 

The man giggles, not cutely, more as a filler for his excitement. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, what’s your name?” 

“Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto, Bokuto Koutarou. Akaashi likes that name. It sounds fitting. 

Every day after that gets more exciting. Bokuto comes up with better routines, new moves that Akaashi can’t help but applaud. Bokuto smiles every time their eyes meet, he doesn’t expect Akaashi to smile back. Sometimes he does, when his mood is exceptionally good. 

They talk after his dancing, sometimes just at the spot Akaashi stands at, sometimes at a cafe. Bokuto is loud and animatic. His life is exciting and full of passion, Akaashi winds up looking forward to each talk. 

The colours Bokuto wore hurt his eyes and the music throbbed at his ears, but for some unfathomable reason, Akaashi found it beautiful.

Akaashi found Bokuto beautiful. 

**Author's Note:**

> sjsjsjsj thanks for reading!!! There really was no point/plot to this lol...I might continue if I can think of a plot for this HAHA thanks for reading!! please leave a comment/kudos if you liked it <33333


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